Je suis bien tombé…

I am the proud owner of a brand new bicycle. Somewhat proud. It’s not like my bike at home. It doesn’t go fast. It’s a hybrid. It has a rack on the back so I can carry stuff. It’s my utility bike that I absolutely need to go places like the supermarket or basically anywhere. My school is on top of the hill looking over town and it’s such an annoying walk – wah wah wah. So, being the rational young man that I am, I also purchased a helmet when I got said bike. I wear said helmet, too, on all my excursions around town. [Background, My high school is a compound of several large buildings that are surrounded by a fence and you have to go out through one small red gate that’s specifically for pedestrians the other big gates are just for cars. You can’t smoke inside the compound so you most exit through the pedestrian gate. As water follows the path of least resistance, so do the smokers. They stand on either side of the gate as close as possible to the school without breaking the rules. It seems that the students do the same. I don’t know if it’s a case of follow the leader, but they cluster around the gate in huge groups spilling further and further into the 1.5 lane one-way Rue des Chesneaux that passes in front of the school.] It seems that I most always start and end my excursions on the hour when students have a short break before needing to hurry to their next class so there are always droves of them standing by that damn gate that I need to walk out. They all know me, that American in their classes and they stare at me like an animal at the zoo, the helmet pushes them over the edge though. First of all, no biker wears a helmet in France, except for the road bikers who were decked out in their spandex of whom I have seen very few. It should be expected then that I get all sorts of comments and laughs about my head attire, and I do. Teasing aside, I went mountain biking with a few teachers Wednesday. I felt bad for them because they were kind enough to invite lost old me along, and here I am with a bike that is a little bit more a mountain bike than a road bike, but still – not meant for such trails they took me down which were many – we were gone for 4 hours. They took me on the Grand Tour de Chateau Thierry. Feeling it necessary to take me to the American Cemetery and American Monument commemorating the American role in the battle next door in Belleau Wood in WWI.

Change of gears (so to speak). In class this week, I finally settled into my routine – taking students out of class and working with them in small groups. Some of the students that I work with have already graduated high school and are currently in a technical program at the high school which gives them some kind of training in electrotechnics (I am unsure how to translate electrotechnique and I feel like an anglophone imposter everytime someone asks me how to say it English). So, this group of students are 20 years old or so. Anyway, I met them on Monday and we were doing a question and answer session: ask me what it’s like in America… One student asked me, “Woould yu leek tu go tu zee poob weet me an my freenz Thuursdai?” After an awkward pause, I said that I would have to check to see if going to a bar with my students was expressly forbidden, could lead to the termination of my contract, get me deported from France, etc. After a talking with a teacher who said he didn’t see anything wrong with it (and offered to come along if it would make me feel more comfortable! – I told him I could handle it), I accepted the next day. So, I expected that Thursday, I would go with S. and his friends to the bar for a beer or two – I was a little off the mark. First was S. house where I had a beer with him and J. (nicknamed Tonton [uncle]). Then it was off to Carrefour (the supermarket) where we bought frozen pizzas and a bottle of whiskey. Then it was off to L.'s apartment to fetch him and R.. Then it was off to B.’s where we spent a few hours eating pizza, drinking whiskey, and hard cider. Then it was off to the Comptoir Latino (Latino Counter), which I am happy to report was much more up my alley than Bar du Centre-Ville. I had one beer (half pint – 3.50 euro [~$5], ouch) before finally excusing myself to head back to school. It was midnight and I hadn’t yet prepared for my classes that started at nine the next morning.

So, somehow, I have fallen into all sorts of people who are interested (up till the present at least) in being friendly, and have been met with almost exclusively positive reactions. For instance, I went to the market this morning and a man selling apples gave me a kilo of apples for free, I guess because I spoke passable French, also he lived in Washington State for a year, learning how to run an orchard, I think is what he said, and was excited to hear that my brother was living there now. Unfortunately, I had to turn down an invitation to go the movies with a group of teachers tomorrow. Why? Because, L. invited me to his birthday party…